David Paw stands in a locker room, his dark hair slicked back, muscles straining under smooth skin as he grips the bench, legs spread wide. His hands move fast over himself, fingers tracing the tight black-and-yellow shorts while he leans against the wall, then drops to the floor with legs raised, showing off the power in every shift. The locker room’s hard surfaces frame him, bench, floor, wall, each pose locking in the tension of a solo act that’s all about control.
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